Step One: You Don't Want Me As Your Enemy (BOYxBOY)

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

I walked in the front door with a smile on my face. Andrew had just dropped me home after dinner. Ben was seated on the stairs with a letter in his hands, he was laughing.

“Lily finally write?” I asked him. Lily was Ben's girlfriend of five year. FIVE! At the moment she was doing a four month exchange in the UK for her studies at Uni.

“Yeah,” Ben said distractedly. I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen. Mum was stirring a pot of French onion soup with one hand and pouring herself a glass of red wine with the other. Mum always had a glass of wine when she cooked. In the oven was a fresh loaf of bread to eat with the soup. Rice was also cooking in the rice maker on the counter.

“Smells great,” I said to her.

“Is great,” she mused.

“Is fantastic,” dad cheered as we walked into the room as if walking onto a stage, with one hand behind his back and one across his front.

“Like everything I cook,” mum winked at me.

“Does that include the children?” dad asked her, walking past and patting her on the bum

“Of course,” mum giggled.

“Well then I'd have to disagree. Your first creation was a nightmare,” dad chuckled.

“That's because he's mostly yours,” mum retorted, also laughing. I shook my head at them and grabbed an apple out of the bowl.

“Oh no you don't, put that back, dinner is almost ready,” mum warned.

“I already ate out,” I said to her.

“Oh that's right, you texted. No soup for you then,” mum sung.

“I'll still eat some,” I smiled cheesy like and put the apple back.

“Not if I eat it all first,” dad winked. This went on for a long time before I left them to there canoodling and went upstairs to wait for tea. I crashed back on my bed and let my mind go blank so I wouldn't have to think of anything. My phone began to buzz in my pocket and I picked it up and answered the unknown number.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Is that Angus McCall?” a woman sobbed through the phone.

“Ah yes,” I said, sitting up in surprise.

“You don't know me. I'm Andrew Langley's mother. He's been in an accident,” the woman sobbed. I dropped the phone. Then shaking my head I picked it back up.

“Is he okay? What happened?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“He was in a car crash. The other driver was drunk and swerved. He's in surgery now. I thought I should call you because he kept saying her name when they brought him in,” the woman cried harder.

“I'll be right there,” I said, hanging up the phone and darting through the house.